


Hogwartvengers: Year Two

by orphan_account



Series: Hogwartvengers 'Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hogwartvengers, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts AU, Hogwartvengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second year of Hogwartvengers, in which several familiar faces begin their first year. Hogwarts has no idea what it's in for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Better be Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is absolutely certain that he’s going to be told to go back home as soon as he gets to Hogwarts. Still, if he’s got the chance to stay with Bucky, he’ll do everything he can to make sure he gets sorted. The hat, however, has a surprise in store.

Tugging on his heavy trunk, Steve smiled thankfully at Bucky as the taller boy grabbed the other end, helping him lift it onto the train. “I swear, Steve, this damn thing is heavier than you are,” Bucky teased, grinning. Steve blushed, but didn’t say anything; Bucky was probably right. Glancing over at their mothers waiting on the platform, Steve swallowed back the lump in his throat, waving one last time. He was glad they’d said their proper goodbyes before leaving; he didn’t want to make a scene on the platform. He was eleven years old, he shouldn’t cry at saying goodbye to his mother. “Come on, short stuff,” Bucky urged, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “Let’s go find us a compartment."

Dragging his trunk along behind him, Steve followed Bucky, glad for the other boy’s presence. He’d been so terrified that Bucky would get his Hogwarts letter and he wouldn’t; or worse, Steve would get the letter and Bucky wouldn’t, and then he’d have had to survive Hogwarts alone. But both their letters had come, and Steve couldn’t be happier. Sure, he’d miss his mom, and he doubted he’d be in the same house as Bucky, but… at least they’d be in the same castle. 

Bucky found them an empty compartment and hoisted both their trunks into the luggage ruck with an ease that Steve was jealous of. He only hoped Bucky didn’t abandon him when he realised he fit in at Hogwarts and Steve didn’t, and he started making new friends. “Hey, daydreamer,” Bucky said to snap him from his thoughts, ruffling Steve’s hair. “Sit down before you fall down, the train’s about to start moving.” Steve nodded, taking the seat opposite Bucky, and felt his cheeks go pink when his feet didn’t even touch the floor. He tucked them up underneath himself in order to hide his shortness, though he figured Bucky had noticed. It didn’t surprise his taller friend when Steve dug through his threadbare bag for his sketchbook and pencils, keeping his gaze determinedly away from his mother as the train pulled out of the station. 

“You don’t have to babysit me, y’know,” Steve told Bucky quietly. “If you wanna go find other first years and make friends, you can. I’ll hang out here and draw.” Bucky shot him the all-too familiar look that read ‘Steve, you’re an idiot’. 

“I’ll have all the time in the world to make friends after we’re sorted,” he replied patiently. “And I want to spend my first ride on the Hogwarts express with my best friend. Even if he’ll probably spend the whole time in his own imagination,” he added with a grin, nodding towards the sketchbook. Steve shrugged sheepishly, not denying it.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, making Bucky smile. 

“No problem, short stuff. Go on, go ahead and draw. I’m just gonna read for a little while,” he added, taking a book from his bag. Steve nodded, glancing out of the window at the beautiful scenery rolling by and propping his sketchbook up in his lap, open to an empty page. He didn’t want to let the ride go by without drawing it.

.-.

Steve was surprised at how short the train ride seemed to be, but figured he’d lost track of time while drawing as he usually did. Bucky didn’t seem to mind the lack of attention, and when Steve looked over at him when they had the announcement of being half an hour away, he was asleep. Setting his sketchbook back in his bag and carefully boxing up his pencils, he got up and went to shake Bucky’s shoulder. “Buck, come on, we need to get changed,” he urged, smiling in amusement when Bucky groaned feebly, cracking an eye open. “We’re almost there.” Nodding, Bucky got to his feet with a yawn, pulling both of their trunks down so Steve could get his uniform out. He almost laughed at the size of his own clothes compared to Bucky’s, not hesitating in stripping off his t-shirt to pull his uniform shirt on. Bucky had seen his scrawny ass naked a hundred times, one more wouldn’t hurt.

Steve felt his palms grow clammy and his face heat up as they pulled into Hogsmeade, his heart beating a mile a minute. “Just breathe, Steve,” Bucky murmured, placing gentle hands on Steve’s shoulders. Their foreheads pressed together, and Steve instinctively matched Bucky’s breathing rhythm, as he did every time his friend snapped him out of an impending panic attack. 

“I’m scared, Buck,” he admitted in the tiniest whisper, and Bucky squeezed his shoulders reassuringly.

“Don’t be, Steve. You’re going to be sorted, and even if we’re in different houses, you’re still my best friend. They’re not going to send you back home, and you’re not going to puke in front of everyone,” he insisted, having heard all of the worries before. Steve let out a whine in the back of his throat, and Bucky smiled. “Come on, short stuff. You might surprise yourself.” With a sigh and a steadying breath, Steve pulled back, nodding determinedly. He could do this.

They joined the crowd of nervous first years, Bucky a good head taller than all of them, and followed the large man with the lantern down a short path to the edge of the lake. Steve’s stomach rolled at the sight of the boats, and a stocky dark-skinned boy shot him a concerned look. “Wow, you look like you’re gonna pass out. You okay, man?” Steve opened his mouth, but no words came out, and Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“He’s fine,” he said firmly, and the other boy raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, okay, just checking on him. He doesn’t look so great.” Bucky’s hand didn’t move, and Steve felt his legs turn to jelly when they were told to get in the boats.

“Come on, Steve; you promised me you wouldn’t puke,” Bucky reminded cheerfully, directing him towards a boat. The stocky boy joined them, as did a blonde-haired boy with a mischievous expression. 

“Dude, if you’re going to hurl, do it over the side of the boat, please,” the blonde said as soon as he saw Steve’s face, and Steve couldn’t help but snicker.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m good.” As he spoke, the boats jolted into movement, and he gripped the edge with white knuckles, biting his lip so hard he thought it started to bleed.

“Easy there, soldier,” Bucky soothed, rubbing his back gently. “You’ve got this.” He glanced up at the other two boys, who were staring. “He gets seasick real easy.” The blonde snorted, raising a narrow eyebrow.

“No, really?” he replied sarcastically. “Shift up.” Carefully nudging the dark-skinned boy aside, the blonde sat in front of Steve, leaning forward to meet his gaze. “Hold out your hands.” Confused, Steve did so, and flinched on instinct when the other boy took his wrists in his hands, pressing gently on his pulse points with his thumbs. “Old trick, helps motion sickness. It’s to do with balance and junk; I don’t really get it, but it works.” Steve blinked, trying to focus himself. He did actually feel better a little bit.

“Thanks,” he choked out, and the other boy sent him a grin.

“No problem. Clint Barton, by the way,” he added. Steve managed a tentative smile that was probably more of a grimace.

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.” Bucky’s hand continued to rub circles on his back, and that combined with Clint’s little trick was making the nausea recede easily. 

“James Barnes, call me Bucky,” Bucky introduced, eyes darting up to meet Clint’s. 

“Bucky? Where the hell did you get that name from?” Clint queried. Steve grinned to himself, not needing to look to see Bucky shifting uncomfortably.

“His middle name’s Buchanan,” Steve filled in, and Bucky cuffed him over the head.

“Damn it, Steve!” he whined as Clint began to snigger.

“Buchanan? Aw, dude, that’s a terrible middle name. I can see why you go by Bucky. What about you?” he added, turning to the fourth member of their boat.

“James Rhodes. But a lot of people call me Rhodey,” he offered. 

“Bucky and Rhodey. Is James not a good enough name anymore?” Clint remarked, shaking his head. “How you doing there, Steve?”

“Good, thanks,” Steve assured, looking up. His breath left him all over again when he saw the castle, though this time he didn’t really mind.

“Damn,” Bucky murmured, and Steve nodded in agreement. Rhodey let out a low whistle. The trip from the boats to the side-chamber of the Great Hall was a blur of ‘whatever you do, don’t puke’ and Bucky’s guiding hand to Steve, and he could feel himself shaking as he followed the others into the main hall. He couldn’t stop the nightmare of being told they’d made a mistake, he was too weak and he should go home from playing out in his head. It was a good thing his surname didn’t begin with A; he was completely zoned out during the explanation of the Sorting Hat, and the hat’s song. Bucky flashed him a grin when his name was called, sauntering up to the hat and perching on the stool. There was a beat, before ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ was yelled out, and the red-and-gold clad table burst into raucous applause. Bucky beamed as his robes changed, and Steve tried to smile. There went any chance of them being in the same house. Still, he wasn’t surprised; Bucky was practically Gryffindor to the core. 

He smiled when he saw Clint go into Hufflepuff; that was where he was most likely to be sorted, at least he might have a friend there. It was a long wait for his name to be called, and he almost missed it, too busy being relieved that Rhodey made Hufflepuff too. Two people who were nice guys in the house he was likely to be in, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being without Bucky. When Selvig called his name, Steve stepped forward, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other so he didn’t fall over in front of the entire school. Sinking onto the stool in relief, he jumped when the hat spoke to him. ‘ _A little nervous, ey?_ ’ it chuckled, its voice low. ‘ _Don’t worry, you’re not the first. Now, where do you fit in?_ ’

‘ _Nowhere,_ ’ Steve thought automatically, and the hat hummed in disapproval.

‘ _Now, that’s not true. You just haven’t found your place yet. But I know exactly where it is; and remember Mr Rogers, I’m never wrong._ ’ Before Steve could ask what the hat meant, it shouted out ‘GRYFFINDOR!’ and Steve gaped. The table burst into the same applause that they’d given Bucky, though Steve was sure he could hear whispers of ‘how the hell is he a Gryffindor?’ echoing around the hall. Still, he left the hat on the stool and headed for the open seat next to Bucky, unable to believe it when his robes changed colour and his tie became a deep red and gold. What had the hat meant? How could it possibly think he was suited for Gryffindor? He wasn’t brave! He just didn’t know how to run away from a fight; that was stupidity, not bravery.

“Congrats, short stuff! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Bucky cheered, clapping him on the shoulder with a wide grin. Steve blinked, still shell-shocked.

“Neither did I,” he replied faintly, making Bucky snort. The hat’s words still rung out inside his head. He hoped he ‘found his place’ soon, because he doubted he’d last two seconds in Gryffindor until he did.


	2. In Which Rhodey Arrives, and Bruce is Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since they were babies, and now he’s started at Hogwarts Bruce is worried about his own place. Tony is quick to set things straight.

Tony beamed when he saw his younger friend walk towards the Hufflepuff table, the badger proudly displayed on the crest on his robes. “That’s my boy,” he muttered softly, knowing it was the best place for Rhodey. He was so damn Hufflepuff it was sickening.

“You know him?” Bruce queried, and Tony nodded.

“We grew up together,” he replied, watching as a shaking, scrawny kid shuffled up to the hat. Expecting another Hufflepuff, his jaw dropped when the hat declared the kid a Gryffindor. “Now that’s unexpected,” he murmured, seeing the boy looked as shocked as everyone else.

“Wow; kid looks like a strong wind would blow him over. He’ll be eaten alive,” Bruce agreed, sympathy in his tone.

“I’ll get Thor to keep an eye on him, and Rhodey,” Tony assured. He watched as a taller first year who had been sorted early on clapped the scrawny kid on the shoulder, grinning widely. “Though it looks like he’s already got a guardian angel there.”

“Rhodey?” Bruce asked, perplexed. Tony jerked a thumb towards the Hufflepuff table.

“James Rhodes. He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember; our fathers are friends, and he was the one friend my dad actually approved of. That’ll probably change now he’s a badger, though, but who gives a crap?” he added with a smirk, not noticing Bruce’s smile falter. The werewolf merely hummed in agreement, though his commentary on the sorting stopped. Fury gave his usual short speech, and when the food appeared, Bruce didn’t dig into it with his usual gusto. Tony, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to outdo the amount of food he ate at last year’s feast. “You okay?” he checked between bites, a concerned frown on his face, and Bruce faked a grin, nodding.

“Yeah, fine. Just not that hungry,” he lied easily. Tony’s frown deepened, but he shrugged, apparently accepting the explanation and going back to his own meal. Bruce nibbled at a roast potato, his appetite completely gone. He should’ve known the other shoe would drop eventually.

.-.-.

Despite his reluctance, Bruce found himself tagging along with Tony early the next morning to go meet the infamous Rhodey. Tony had spent half the night gushing about all the crazy stuff they’d gotten up to pre-Hogwarts and how Bruce was going to love Rhodey, unaware that he was driving the stake a little deeper with every word. Tony had a best friend from before Hogwarts; of course he did. A charismatic guy like Tony didn’t have a friendless childhood. And Bruce could tell all-too easily how things would go. Tony and Rhodey would reconnect as if they’d never been apart, having spent the whole summer together back home, and Bruce would quietly fade into the background now Tony didn’t have need of him. He was used to it.

“Come on, Bruce, hurry up!” Tony urged, tugging Bruce along by the hand. They turned a corner, and Bruce felt a pang at the way Tony’s grin widened when he spotted Rhodey sitting on the steps. “Hey, Rhodey!” The first year turned, beaming when he saw Tony.

“Hey, man!” he greeted, jumping up and hurrying over to hug Tony tightly. 

“Congratulations, little badger,” Tony teased, punching the boy lightly on the shoulder when they parted. “How are you liking your house?”

“It’s pretty cool. Clint, one of my roommates, snuck out last night — he probably thinks I didn’t notice, but I did — and the other guy’s pretty quiet, but he seems cool. And everyone else seems nice,” he added, making Tony smile. 

“Good to know. Hey, Rhodey, this is Bruce; I told you about him,” Tony said suddenly, grabbing Bruce by the wrist to drag him closer. “Bruce, meet Rhodey, he’s just as awesome as you are so you’ll get along great,” he insisted, sounding pleased. Bruce tried not to squirm as Rhodey eyed him up carefully.

“So you’re Tony’s new science buddy, huh? And roommate, too; best of luck to you, man, I know it’s not a job I’d want,” he added with a snort. Bruce managed a faint smile, wondering what exactly Tony had told Rhodey about him.

“Yeah, well, so long as he keeps his side of the room vaguely tidy, I’m happy,” he replied evenly. Rhodey snorted, giving Tony a sideways glance. 

“You know the meaning of vaguely tidy? Tony, I’m impressed,” he joked, earning another punch to the shoulder.

“Don’t get smart with me, sourpatch. Come on, Bruce and I have double History of Magic first thing, and I’m gonna need some coffee if there’s any sort of chance I won’t sleep through the entire thing,” Tony declared, leading the way towards the hall. “You go sit with all your little badger friends, I’ll catch up with you later.” Rhodey laughed, hugging Tony loosely around the shoulders.

“See you, Tony. Try not to blow anything up.”

“No promises!” Tony called after him, smirking as he and Bruce headed for the Ravenclaw table. 

“He seems to be settling in well,” Bruce remarked noncommittally, and Tony grinned.

“Rhodey settles in anywhere,” he insisted. “Guy can make friends in ten minutes. Still don’t know why he puts up with me.” Bruce’s smile became genuine at that; Tony didn’t seem to see why any of them put up with him. 

“Probably the same reasons I do,” he replied, making Tony raise an eyebrow.

“My unfailing charm and devastating good looks?” he presumed. Bruce snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Homework help,” he teased in return. Tony poked Bruce in the chest, shaking his head.

“Now I know you’re lying; you’ve never needed help with your homework,” he declared knowingly. “But that’s okay, keep your secret list of reasons you adore me. I know you have one.” Bruce gave his friend an exasperated look, reaching for some toast. 

Neither of them were surprised when Pepper perched on the bench beside Tony, her day planner in her hand. It was the blue one, which meant it was the one with Tony’s schedule in it; hers was red. “Did you do the Charms homework like I told you?” she asked, and Tony hummed in confirmation, his mouth full.

“Yes, ma’am,” he assured once he’d swallowed. “And good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning. Hi, Bruce,” Pepper added with a smile, before her face grew serious again as she stared at Tony. “You need to finish the essay for Selvig today, then you’ve got the evening to brew with Bruce.”

“Can’t you do it for me? You’ve done the essay, right?” Tony whined, but Pepper didn’t waver.

“You could do that essay in your sleep, Tony. And no, that’s not a suggestion,” she told him firmly. “It’ll take you ten minutes, twenty if you’re slow about it. You’ve not got any urgent projects on the go, I know you don’t.”

“But I was gonna hang out with Rhodey after class!” Tony protested.

“We, uh, don’t have to brew today,” Bruce piped up tentatively. “If you want to spend time with Rhodey. It’s cool.” Tony shot him the look that said he was being an idiot. 

“Of course we have to brew today. I promised I would, and besides, we’re making so much progress! I want to,” he insisted. “Rhodey can spend time with his new Hufflepuff buddies, or maybe make friends with the scrawny new Gryffindor. Oh, that reminds me. Hey, Jane?” he called up the table, and the brunette girl looked up at him. “You’re friends with Thor, right?” Her cheeks went faintly pink, but she nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

“Could you ask him to keep an eye on the scrawny kid who was sorted into Gryffindor last night?” Tony requested. Jane smiled slightly, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Steve Rogers?” she checked, and Tony shrugged. He assumed that was the kid’s name.

“Yeah, him,” he confirmed. Jane nodded, offering a smile.

“Sure thing, Tony. I think Thor and his friends were planning on it anyway; the kid’s tiny, and the Slytherins know easy pickings when they see it,” she added with a glance over to the green and silver clad table. 

“Good, good. Now, Pepper, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get to History of Magic,” Tony said to the redhead, who smiled.

“I know you do, Tony. Which is why you’ll need this.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a heavy book that Tony recognised as his History of Magic textbook.

“What, where did you get that? I had it right… oh,” Tony murmured, looking into his own bag to find the book he’d thought was his History textbook was actually a book on seventh year potions. “Oops.” Pepper smiled in amusement, swapping the books over. 

“You’re welcome. Now get going, or you’ll be late,” she urged. Tony sighed, getting to his feet, and looked to Bruce. 

“Come on, then, honeybunch. It’s naptime,” he joked, walking alongside the other Ravenclaw. Bruce laughed, giving Tony a playfully scolding look.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t sleep through the whole thing?” he asked, making Tony grin.

“I said I’d try, not that I’d succeed,” he corrected smugly. Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes and following Tony to the classroom, wondering how much longer he had before he was just a guy Tony shared a dorm with and said hi to in the corridors occasionally.

.-.-.

As Tony had promised, they headed down to the potions labs after dinner, and Bruce was just starting to believe that maybe Rhodey starting Hogwarts wouldn’t mess up his friendship with Tony. At least, until Rhodey appeared in their lab. Tony grinned when the Hufflepuff appeared, and the two launched into happy conversation. Bruce stayed quiet, focusing on his potion, convinced the other two had forgotten he was there. “Hey, Tony, I think I’m just gonna pack up and head back to the dorm,” he interrupted quietly, turning off the burner underneath his cauldron, vanishing the potion inside. It was a mess anyway; he’d been distracted. Tony frowned, brow furrowed.

“How come? You feeling okay?” he asked, glancing down at his watch. Bruce knew he was checking the date, seeing how close it was to the full moon. Obviously he’d forgotten that there was a moon only two weeks ago. 

“Yeah, fine. But you’ve obviously got some catching up to do…” He trailed off, shouldering his satchel. “I’ll see you later.” Not waiting for a reply, Bruce left the classroom, letting out a long breath when Tony didn’t follow. He had to distance himself; it would hurt less. 

Slipping quietly into the Ravenclaw common room, Bruce headed straight for their dorm, smiling faintly when he saw that once again, half of Tony’s stuff had migrated over to his side of the room. To be fair, Tony did have a _lot_ of stuff. Tidying away some of the clothes strewn about the floor, he grabbed a book off his shelf and clambered onto his bed, shutting the drapes in an attempt to block out the rest of the world and just read.

Tony came back in after about an hour, and being Tony, completely ignored Bruce’s closed drapes, pushing them aside to sit on the end of Bruce’s bed. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, sounding confused. Bruce dog-eared his page, setting the book aside.

“What? No. What makes you think that?” Bruce queried. Tony shrugged, biting his lip.

“You’ve been really quiet since last night, and you sat with Pepper in Charms today. You never sit with Pepper in Charms. And then you left early just now when we were brewing. So, did I do something wrong?” he repeated earnestly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Tony. I sat with Pepper because she needed help, and I left early because I thought you’d want to spend some time with your best friend,” Bruce explained. Tony’s frown deepened.

“Well I did, but then he left, so…” He gave Bruce a pointed look, and the werewolf rolled his eyes.

“I meant Rhodey,” he replied.

“Rhodey’s already got his own friends in his year, he just dropped by to say hi,” Tony told him. “Besides, you’re my best friend… aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, Tony, am I? You and Rhodey have been friends since you were in diapers, I don’t blame you for wanting to hang out with him. I just… I know how it goes. First year was great, but… now you’ve got your best friend back, and you’re gonna wonder what the hell you were ever doing letting the stupid werewolf kid tag along with you. It’s okay,” Bruce assured, tucking one knee against his chest. Tony stared at him for a long moment, and Bruce resisted the urge to squirm.

“Y’know, considering how smart you are, you’re really, really stupid,” the billionaire told him frankly. “I like you, Bruce. A lot. I don’t tend to _like_ people. I love Rhodey like a brother, but he’s not you! He doesn’t _get_ all the science, and potions, and magical theory. He just passes it off as ‘Tony’s weird shit’ and leaves it at that. You actually understand what I’m saying when I start ranting about the laws of magic and electro-magical theory and everything else my crazy brain comes up with. And you know I don’t care about the furry guy,” he added, knowing Bruce didn’t like him calling it ‘the wolf’. “So yeah, Rhodey’s here, and that’s awesome, but I’m not gonna drop you for him. So get that into your thick skull, okay?” Bruce managed a tentative smile, and Tony returned it tenfold.

“Okay,” he agreed softly. “Also, just to clarify, I still don’t understand most of what you’re saying when you rant about electro-magical theory.” Tony laughed, shuffling up the bed to sit beside Bruce, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and smacking a kiss to his temple.

“But you listen anyway, which is the important part,” he pointed out, grinning. “So stop thinking I’m going to ditch you, honeybear. And help me with my Astronomy chart, I forgot about it in the summer.” Bruce sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. Second year was turning out to be pretty similar to first, and Bruce kind-of hoped it stayed that way.


	3. Late Night Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Clint Barton speaks to Natasha Romanoff, it's nearly midnight, and he's wearing pyjamas.

Hufflepuffs were _not_ lame. Clint Barton had believed that his whole life, and that belief had only strengthened when he himself had been sorted into Hufflepuff. He hadn’t ever thought he’d even make it to Hogwarts, having grown up the token muggle in the magical circus he’d joined at age five, after his parents had been killed. Getting his letter had been a surprise to everyone, and Clint didn’t think he’d been prouder in his life.

But before getting his letter, he’d had to deal with seeing the casual acts of magic by everyone in the troupe, as well as watching the younger members return to Hogwarts at the end of every summer. They’d all graduated by the time he got there, unfortunately, but one of his earliest memories was wandering around the snow-filled circus with a thick yellow and black scarf wrapped around his neck, given to him by the same boy who had taught him how to shoot, and given him his first bow. Alex had been the older brother he’d never had, and Clint had missed him every day since he’d left the circus after graduating with six Outstanding NEWTs. Alex had proved to him that Hufflepuff was by no means the ‘weak’ house, or the ‘lame’ house, and now Clint had a yellow scarf and badger-adorned crest of his own, and he would prove that to the rest of the school. Because yeah, badgers were cute and fluffy, but so were lions, and people forgot about the goddamn honey badger. That’s what Clint liked to think of himself as; the honey badger amongst all the normal badgers. 

It only took him a week to learn the layout of the school, and another two to find all the best high spots to hide in without getting caught. He tended to ignore curfew, sneaking about the school as silent as a shadow and hunting down all the best places to retreat to for some alone time. He even found a spot big enough to set up a makeshift target and get some shooting practice in. The teachers didn’t know he’d brought his bow with him, and if he had his way, they never would.

Waiting for his two dormmates to fall asleep, Clint toed on his boots and slipped out of bed, fully dressed. Digging his bow out from under his bed, he slung it and his quiver over his shoulder, sneaking from the dorm room and down the hall towards the main common room. Thankfully, it was empty, the fire burned down to glowing cinders and the couch cushions neatly put in place by whoever the last occupant had been. Clint paused when he saw a book strewn on the floor beside the squashy black armchair usually occupied by Coulson, the uptight second year that Clint was sure should’ve been a Ravenclaw with the way he was always reading. Then again, maybe he’d asked for Hufflepuff to avoid being in the same house as Stark and Banner; Clint knew he would have. Coulson was nice enough, though, and kept quiet when he saw Clint hiding up in the rafters of the Astronomy tower after dinner one evening. Clint appreciated that.

Creeping out behind the statue of the house guardian, Clint smiled at the empty stretch of corridor in front of him, immediately making a bee-line for the kitchens. He’d skipped dinner to catch up on some homework, and was regretting it. Tickling the pear, he smirked when he was greeted by a small gathering of eager house elves, all rushing to take his requests. “Just some leftovers from dinner tonight, if it’s not too much trouble,” he asked politely, knowing that one of the most important things was to be on the good side of the house elves; it could get you into all sorts of places. “And a glass of milk?”

“Isn’t milk a little… juvenile?” Clint visibly jumped at the voice, whipping around to see there was someone else in the kitchen already, other than the house elves. It took him a couple of seconds to recognise her as Natasha Romanoff; a fellow first year, though she was a Slytherin. They had Transfiguration and Charms together, though he’d never actually spoken to her. She was sat at the small table with what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich and a mug of fragrant tea, and had a house elf waiting by her side for further instruction.

“Yeah, maybe I’m a little juvenile,” Clint retorted evenly, sauntering over to join her at the table as the house elves rushed to fix him a plate. 

“No one ever argued that, Barton,” Natasha said with a snort, eyeing him coolly. Clint ignored the little flutter of pleasure he got at the fact that she knew his name. “I didn’t think any other first years knew how to get here,” she admitted, making Clint’s smirk widen.

“Neither did I. But I should’ve figured a secret like this would be too good to stay secret for long,” he reasoned. Natasha shrugged, tucking a lock of fiery red hair behind her ear.

“Hey, I won’t tell if you don’t. I have to say, though, you’re the last person I’d have expected here.”

“Why, because I’m a Hufflepuff?” he asked somewhat defensively, and she smiled slightly.

“No, because you’re a bonehead,” she replied, a hint of teasing to her tone. Clint snickered, leaning back in his chair.

“Just because I don’t pay attention in class doesn’t mean I’m not learning,” he insisted, making her roll her eyes.

“Oh, please; you slept through Selvig’s lecture today, don’t think I didn’t notice,” she accused, sipping at her tea. Clint smiled when two house elves rushed up to his side with a large glass of milk and a plate of roast beef with vegetables and mashed potatoes, and murmured a quick thanks to them.

“What can I say, it was a boring lecture. Nothing you can’t learn from reading the damn textbook, anyway,” he pointed out. Natasha looked somewhat impressed, her smile widening by the tiniest fraction.

“You’ve read to the end of the textbook? Tonight’s just full of surprises.” Clint scowled lightly, kicking her under the table. “Ooh, feisty Barton. Guess that bow’s not just for decoration, huh?” Clint blinked, having forgotten he was wearing his beloved weapon. There went that cat out of the bag.

“You think I’d carry it around for looks at-“ he glanced at his watch, “ten to midnight? Of course I know how to use it.” Natasha merely nodded, looking somewhat pleased. “And it’s Clint; Barton makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”

“Sure, Clint,” Natasha agreed easily. “I guess that means it’s you who set up the target in the room on the fifth floor corridor behind the tapestry of Sir Lancelot?” 

“Oh come on, can’t I have _any_ secrets around here?” Clint whined, annoyed that someone else knew about his spot. It was _his_ spot, damn it! “I bet you know about the secret passage from the second floor Charms corridor to the Great Hall, too.”

“I do now,” Natasha replied, amused. Clint cursed in frustration, feeling his cheeks redden.

“Damn it!” Natasha laughed, and he glared at her. “Whatever. It’s not the only place I know of,” he told her, draining half of his milk in one go. 

“If you’re talking about the room above the roof of the South tower, I’ve found it. I wondered whose comic books those were; I cannot believe you have like, twenty Superman comics and not a single Batman. Seriously, are you brain damaged?” Clint tried not to choke on his beef in surprise; she knew comic books? Well, that answered the question of her heritage. He didn’t know many purebloods who read comics.

“No, I’m just not stupid enough to leave my Batman comics around where clearly, anyone can find them,” he assured her, giving a pointed look. “They’re back in my dorm. You can, uh, borrow them if you want. If you’ve not read any of them.” Natasha faltered, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite make out, before she smiled faintly.

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Now hurry up and finish your food; I wanna see if you’re lying about being able to use that bow. Then you can help me scope out the West tower,” she added, because evidently Clint didn’t have any say in the matter.

“I’ve already done the West tower,” Clint informed her. “There’s a small passage behind the portrait of Bodrick the Brave that leads to the Owlery, but it’s all mouldy and icky and totally not worth it. I swear, I almost got a disease from that damn passage.” Natasha snorted, though her eyebrows rose.

“How the hell have we managed to miss each other? I’ve been all over this school since I got here, I can’t believe we’ve not run into each other before now,” she remarked, and Clint shrugged, swallowing his mouthful of food. The house elf at his side took his empty plate, and he finished off his milk, refusing seconds.

“I guess we just timed things badly,” he mused. “You coming or what?” Getting to his feet, he waited for Natasha to finish her tea, thanking the house elves. When she stood, she folded her arms over her chest, eyeing him appraisingly, and Clint stared back unflinchingly. “What?”

“Nothing. Just wondering how the hell you ended up in Hufflepuff,” she said evenly, and he nudged her shoulder with his, scowling lightly as they headed for the portrait hole together.

“Hufflepuffs are _badass_.”


End file.
